I tell him about that night at Reed’s party, omitting certain key elements such as Jen’s attendance at the party and my near-naked tantrum in the hallway (because I’m a big believer that editing one’s life stories in the retelling is a girl’s prerogative).
“Damn, I wish I could have been there,” Dax says wistfully, shaking his head. “I would havelovedto hang with those guys. Can you imagine what it would feel like to play for an entirearenaof people, all of them singing along to a song you wrote?”
I shake my head, awed by the thought. “When I met them, they’d just performed onSaturday Night Livethe prior week, and the lead-singer guy, Dean, started talking about it with this rapper guy and all I could think was, ‘God, I wish Dax could hear this.’”
The look on Dax’s face is so cute right now, I wanna throw him into a papoose and wear him on my back.
“You lucky bitch,” he mumbles.
“It ain’t no luck, son. Imakemy luck.”
He laughs. “Yes, you do. Always.”
“If RCR comes to Seattle, I’ll totally ask Josh if his friend Reed might get us backstage—well, if Josh and I are still doing our ‘temporarily-exclusive’ thing by then, that is.”
“Who’s Reed? And why would he be able to get us backstage at a Red Card Riot concert?”
I smile. This is exactly the piece of the story I’ve beendyingto tell Dax for days. “Reed’s the guy who threw the party in Vegas where I met Red Card Riot.”
“How does he know them?”
It’s as if we choreographed this conversation in advance. “Well, let me see if I remember how he knows them,” I say. “Hmm.” I look up at the ceiling like I’m deep in thought. “I think Reed knows Red Card Riot because...they’resigned to hisrecord label!”
Dax tilts his head like he’s not sure he heard me correctly.
I giggle.“Reedownsa record label, Dax. Like, he literallyownsit—and RCR is one of his bands.”
Dax is looking at me like I’ve just proved time travel is real. “And you partied with him?” he asks, incredulous. “You partied with the owner of a record label?”
I nod, grinning from ear to ear. “Twice.” I hold up two fingers for emphasis.
Dax’s thoughts are clearly racing. “So... oh my God. Does this Reed guy know your name or did you just sort of, you know, shake hands in a crowded bar?”
“No, we totally hung out. Had real conversations. He called me Stubborn Kat.”
Dax makes a face of total confusion.
“They were all joking that Stubborn Kat is like some kind ofGarfieldrip-off. ‘Oh no, Stubborn Kat ate all the curly fries and now she won’t get off the couch!’” I say by way of explanation, but he still looks nonplussed. “Never mind. I just mean we totally hung out and became friends. I went to his party the first night and then out to dinner with him and his friends a second night.”
Dax runs his hands through his hair, totally freaking out. “Listen to me, Jizz.” His eyes are blazing. “This could be a really lucky break for me.Fuck. Oh my God.” He bites his lip. “Do you think you could send this Reed guy my demo? Or would that make Sir J.W. Faraday feel like you’re just using him to get to Reed?”
I laugh. “Um, there’s no way in hell Josh would ever think I’m using him to get to Reed.”
Dax’s face lights up. “So you’ll send him my demo?”
I sigh and shake my head solemnly. “Sorry, Dax. No. I don’t feel comfortable sending Reed your demo. I’m sorry.”
Dax is obviously crestfallen but trying to hide it. “It’s okay,” he says evenly. “Yeah, no problem. I totally understand. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“But only because that demo doesn’t show how totallyawesomeyou are!” I add brightly. “Only because we’ve got this one amazing chance to make anawesomefirst impression with the guy who owns Red Card Riot’s record label and we’re totally gonna blow him outta the water!”
He looks like I’ve punched him and kissed him all at once. “Yeah, but that demo’s all I’ve got—at least for now. I’m working on it, but it’s gonna be a while.”
“How much do you still need?” I ask.
For as long as I can remember, Dax and his band (but mostly Dax) have been saving their pennies to record a full-length studio album of his songs with full instrumentation. But saving that kind of money—fifteen thousand bucks, he estimates, to record and produce the album exactly the way he wants it—is an awfully tall order for a group of twenty-something musicians living hand-to-mouth by playing bars and festivals.
“I had almost three thousand saved, but then my bike totally crapped out on me so I’m basically back to square one.”
